SEVEN
R2-D2 tootled and bleeped as he went about the task Jacen had assigned him. The little droid had extended his linkage and repair arms into one of the compact missiles floating near the narrow trash-exhaust tube. In the faint light of the glow stick, the squat, domed cylinder of the little droid looked very much the antique he was.
A clumsy clank sounded behind Jacen as C-3PO struggled with weightlessness.
“Oh dear,” C-3PO said excitedly. “I wasn’t built for this, you know. Zero gravity confuses my circuits.”
“Just hang on to something,” Jacen muttered. “When Dad gets the power back on, we’ll have gravity again. Just make sure you’re on the floor and not the ceiling when that happens.”
“Good heavens. Who can tell the difference? I’m going to need a good overhaul when this is all over. This will be all over soon, won’t it, Master Jacen?”
“One way or the other.”
“I almost wish you had left me deactivated.”
“Just be thankful you’ve got good surge overload circuits, or you might have been deactivated permanently.” He closed the panel on the final missile. “Well, that will either work or it won’t,” he said philosophically.
“I don’t understand,” C-3PO said. “What will work or won’t?”
R2-D2 whistled something vaguely condescending and derisive.
“Well, of course I shouldn’t be expected to understand, you little trash sweeper,” C-3PO retorted indignantly. “I’m a protocol droid, not a metal-grubbing screw turner. Oh! No offense to you, Master Jacen.”
“None taken. I wish someone a little better at this than I were here—Anakin, for instance. If I’ve made a mistake, I may well blow us out of the sky.”
“Oh, no!”
“Okay, time for your part, Threepio. I need you to cycle this lock manually.”
“But, Master Jacen, all of the air will evacuate.”
“True. But I won’t be here—I’ll be on the other side of the outer pressure lock. The vacuum won’t hurt you.”
“I suppose not. But why, Master Jacen?”
“I need you to take each of these missiles to the end of the dump vent and give them a good shove in the direction of that Yuuzhan Vong interdictor.”
“Me, handle a concussion missile?”
“If it’s any comfort, if it exploded it wouldn’t make any difference to you if you were holding it or a meter away, like you are now. There still wouldn’t be enough of you left to plate a spoon with.”
“But—but—what if I fall out of the ship?”
Jacen smiled thinly. “Don’t,” he said. “Once all the missiles are away, you and Artoo seal the vent up, cycle the lock again, and get back inside. I’ll keep in touch by comm.”
“Master Jacen, I am a protocol droid!”
“And I would rather be meditating. C’mon, Threepio. You’ve done more dangerous things than this before.”
“Not willingly, Master Jacen!”
Jacen slapped the droid on his metal back. “Show me what you’re made of, Threepio.”
“I will gladly submit to an internal inspection,” C-3PO said.
“You know what I mean. Go.”
“Yes, sir.” The droid had a noticeable quaver in his voice.
Jacen pushed out, plugged in a portable power source, and cycled the inner lock. It closed under protest, its hydraulics used to a more robust diet of electrons.
He made his way to where his mother was keeping watch from the cockpit.
“For now. Surely they must know something has gone wrong, though.”
“Maybe, maybe not. We don’t know what their procedures are in situations like this. Yuuzhan Vong warriors are proud—maybe they’re giving these first guys every chance to deal with the situation before sending reinforcements. Maybe they’re so confident we can’t get away they aren’t really paying attention. We’re about to see how closely they’re watching, anyway. I just sent some concussion missiles floating their way. With any luck, they’ll think it’s flotsam until it’s too late.” He concentrated briefly. “There. The first is away.”
C-3PO was slow. It was a good five minutes before he got the next one out. The third took even longer. Jacen didn’t stay to watch. He went down and finished welding auxiliary plating over the holes the Yuuzhan Vong had cut into their ship. It was too thin to have a good chance of holding, but it was all they had at the moment that might do. It would at least give them a few minutes. If worse came to worst—and neither this nor his other plan worked—they could always seal off the cockpit or put on vac suits. Of course, then they had to find a habitable planet or space station, fast.
His father came drifting up from beneath. “Are we ready?” he asked.
“As we’ll be,” Jacen replied.
“Let’s go forward and give it a try, then,” Han said. “The Yuuzhan Vong won’t wait on us forever.”
When they rejoined Leia in the cockpit, however, the enemy ship was still quiet.
Jacen activated the intercom. “How’s it going, Threepio?”
“Dreadful, sir. I have two more to go.”
“More coralskippers detaching,” Leia observed suddenly.
“Negative, Threepio,” Jacen said. “Get out of there, now.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
“Ready, everyone?” Han asked.
“Go,” Leia replied.
Han worked his fingers across the instruments, and with a sudden snap, gravity reasserted itself. Jacen’s stomach settled back where it was supposed to be, and he felt a wave of dizziness.
“Hang on.” Han engaged maneuvering thrusters, and the Falcon began spinning like a coin on its side.
Jacen craned for visibility. Below and above, at the extreme edge of his vision, he could make out the coralskippers, still stationary. The living couplings were cinched in the middle, like balloons twisted and tied, and they were still twisting.
“Four times around is going to have to be good enough. Where are your missiles?” “The first one is ready to go.”
“Good thing I had the launchers reinstalled, I guess. Send the detonation signal on three. One, two—”
Jacen held his breath as he keyed the signal on three and blew it out when the distant concussion missile became a small white nova. At the same moment, Han kicked space with the ion drive, and they were going, as only the Millennium Falcon could go. The attached coralskippers whipped out behind them like braids, and Jacen couldn’t see them anymore.
“They’re trying to get a lock with their dovin basals,” Leia reported.
“Jacen!”
“Yes, sir!” Jacen sent another signal, and the remaining missiles surged to life, burning their propellant cores and hurling their noses at the Yuuzhan Vong ship. Gravitic anomalies appeared and sucked all but one in, but the fourth impacted in a brilliant display.
“They blinked!” Leia whooped. “They missed their lock. Han, get us out of here!”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
The ship suddenly shuddered and yawed.
“What was that? What hit us?” Han demanded, just as it happened again.
“The coralskippers tearing loose,” Jacen replied. “And speaking of coralskippers, there are a couple headed our way. I’m going down to the turbolaser.”
“Forget it. If those patches go, I want you up here. We’ll outrun the skips.”
“They’re gaining.”
“As soon as we’re out of the interdictor’s mass shadow, I’m going to lightspeed.”
Jacen considered. “They’ll catch us before that. I’m going down.”
“Jacen—”
He left his father’s protest behind him.
C-3PO was just returning to the safe, enclosed ship when the acceleration slapped him against the side of the waste chute. The last missile, which he had been pushing ahead of him back into the ship, suddenly tripled its weight and, as the vector of the force changed, went hurtling out into open space. It banged against C-3PO as it went by, and with a soundless cry of terror he realized he was going to follow it. Clawing desperately, he managed a handhold on the lock mechanism, but his golden legs dangled out into open space. Looking between them, he saw the stars churn around his feet.
“Artoo!” he broadcast frantically.
His digits were slipping.
Well, he thought to himself. This hasn’t turned out to be a good day at all. If only I had stayed on Coruscant with Master Luke.